


My Many Afflictions

by WithTheKeyIsKing



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Clint Barton Is a Good Bro, Confused Steve Rogers, Hopeful Ending, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Ignorant Steve, M/M, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Panic Attacks, Parent/Child Incest, Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Sexual Abuse, Self Confidence Issues, Sort Of, Steve Tries, Tony Feels, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony has PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2019-03-04 02:07:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13354251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WithTheKeyIsKing/pseuds/WithTheKeyIsKing
Summary: From the moment Tony meets Steve Rogers, he hates him. The super soldier is a reminder of everything bad that's ever happened to him.





	My Many Afflictions

From the moment Tony meets Steve Rogers, he hates him.

Throughout the Helicarrier almost falling and the Invasion and taking down Loki, he tries to speak to the super-soldier as little as possible. He tries to keep things light when he has to talk to Rogers, because that's what he does; he hides, he conceals, he makes sure no one ever knows when something is wrong. The only time he was confrontational was when the scepter was urging him on, and he used that as an excuse later, so that none of them would know.

But _oh,_ he hates Steve Rogers. The man is responsible for every horrible thing that happened to him up until the time his parents died, is responsible for the nightmares and panic attacks that followed, the alcohol abuse and self-harm. He _hates_ Steve Rogers with everything he is, and after Loki is sent back to Asgard, Tony never wants to see the soldier ever again. When Rogers gets on his motorcycle and drives away, Tony feels a weight lift, and he runs back to his lab to comfort himself among the familiar.

He invites Bruce to live at the Tower, because the man is a genius and he knows the government will never stop hunting him, and Tony is very good at keeping the government away. The Spy Twins make an appearance to deliver a message from Fury that he'd been ignoring, and on a whim he tells them to move in. He'd already begun designing individual floors for them all, anyway, just for the hell of it, so they might as well.

Three weeks pass, and Tony finds that he doesn't mind having the company. He spends countless hours talking science with Bruce, Natasha begins to teach him to fight hand-to-hand, and Clint is the type of guy that Tony gets along so flawlessly with. In a rotating order, each of them makes sure he eats and sleeps, systematic in a way that he thinks they must've discussed it.

Somehow, he finds he doesn't mind that, either.

After a month of this easy routine, Rogers shows up out of nowhere. His smile is easy and amicable as he greets them all. All he has is a duffle bag, just back from a cross-country road-trip, and he came to the Towerwhich Tony had started to call Avengers Towerbecause Fury told him this is where the team was living now. Tony wants to turn him away. It's fully within his rights to do so; it's _his_ property, and he doesn't have to let anyone live in it that he doesn't want to.

But that would just lead to unwanted questions directed at him as to why he was barring Captain America from the Tower meant for the whole of the Avengers. So, Steve Rogers moves in.

Tony avoids him like the plague. He makes excuses anytime they are going to be in the same room for a too-long amount of time, and spends far more time in his lab than he did before. He gets a lot of work done, but he can tell that his _friends?_ teammates are confused about the sudden shift after the steady rhythm they'd all fallen into.

Rogers tries, every once in a while, to bridge the gap. And Tony is polite when the soldier talks to him, because that is what he _does,_ but he keeps the conversation short and succinct and sticking only to the necessary points, with none of his usual teasing and lightness that he feels around the others.

All he feels around Rogers is hot breath on the back of his neck and ropes around his wrists to keep him down and a moaned name in his ear over and over and _over._ A name that is not his. A name that belonged to the true object of his attacker's desire, that was only assigned to Tony because the man was _drunk_ and _delusional_ and _abusive_

With a deep breath, Tony swallows his anger, and his fear, and his revulsion. Over the many years of his life, he's gotten very good at that.

Since Rogers began living in the Tower, Tony's nightmares have come back. In the past seven years they had died down quite a lot, way less frequent and requiring less alcohol to keep away, but now he can't go a night without his memories assaulting him. He drinks more, sleeps less, and Rogers is always there.

The easy way Rogers begins to get along with the others hits Tony like a blow to the gut. He sees Rogers and Bruce talking about meditation and other new-age shit he'd always teased Bruce about. Natasha, even with her guardedness and hesitance to accept new people, is taking Rogers out to experience the world. And Clint is showing Rogers all about the twenty-first century, laughing at the soldier's confusion is a friendly way.

It feels like a betrayal, even though none of them know, nor does he _want_ them to know. He knows his crumbling feelings are irrational. He _does._ But the blonde hair, and the blue eyes, and the large build, all the things he...

Tony shudders and fights the nausea that wants to come up. He's past this, he is. He moved past psychosomatic symptoms _years_ ago. He will not allow them to come back now.

Early on, before Rogers came, Natasha and Clint had showed Tony and Bruce how to use various kinds of guns. Bruce hadn't been a big fan, and Tony was already ok with a few, but they helped him improve and he feels very confident with one now. He's on the range, practicing, when Rogers finds him.

He has his headphones in, Black Sabbath blaring at an almost deafening level, just the way he likes his. He's been awake for twenty-two hours straight by this point, and as he shoots at the target, it takes on the shape of the figure that still haunts his dreams. He shudders and refuses to react otherwise and keeps shooting because this is the only revenge he will ever have. Bullets in a blank target.

The hand that falls on his shoulder to get his attention startles a flinch and a gasp out of Tony, and he whirls around, gun pointed at whoever it is.

Rogers stands before him, hands raised in front of him peacefully, a gentle and slightly wide-eyed look on his face. His lips move, but Tony can't hear him because of the music.

For a moment, before his mind catches up to the situation and pulls him out of the ghost of pain, Tony considers emptying his clip into that perfect face. Maybe that will be a better revenge, to end the figure his attacker had wanted so badly. Tony knows the soldier heals very quickly; could he heal fast enough to survive four bullets to the brain?

Rogers' expression is turning to one of worry, of concern, and the moment passes. Tony jerks around and tosses the gun onto the table, then yanks his headphones out of his ears. Taking a deep breath and forcing himself into control, Tony turns back around.

"Sorry, Cap, been up for a while and you surprised me, is all," he forces a sheepish grin onto his face. "What can I do for you?"

"I just wanted to talk to you," Rogers says. His eyebrows are still furrowed in concern, and Tony wants to snap at him, to make him go away. Rogers' worry means _jackshit._

"About?" Tony prompts. The sooner this ends, the better.

Rogers shakes his head. "Nothing specific, I just" the furrow turns from concern to agitation at himself. He shifts. "I know I came here a lot later than everyone else, and I know we didn't get off to a great start, but I want to bury all the bad things between us." He sounds so disgustingly _earnest._ Tony holds back a shudder.

"Yea, I hear you," Tony replies breezily, glancing around, trying to not look like he's avoiding looking at him.

The super-soldier frowns. "Do you? I'd really like to get along with you. I know we're different people, and hell, you're a lot smarter than me," he smiles with a small chuckle, "But I figured, if Howard and I could get along so well" Tony's whole body goes rigid, "then we could, too, since you guys are so similar" the breath leaves Tony's lungs and for a moment his heart stops.

Then his lungs inflate and his heart beats again but they're both too fast, too erratic. Tony has had enough panic attacks in his life to recognize that that is what's happening, and memories are flashing throughout his senses, hot and heavy and painful and he's so afraid, and why won't it stop, what did he do, who does the groaned name belong to, why him why, so afraid, so painful

A hand lands on his shoulder, firm and large, and Tony cries out, stumbling back, away, he doesn't want this, please stop, maybe if he makes himself smaller he won't be found, no please stop, no more, it hurts

Someone is speaking near him. The voice is soothing and methodical, and Tony realizes someone is singing. It has the feel of a lullaby, but it isn't in English. It sounds like a woman. It definitely _isn't_ a deep-voiced man.

Slowly, Tony settles back into his body. His chest doesn't feel like it's burning anymore, and his heart isn't pounding loud enough to hear like it was. His visions blurs for a moment, and when it clears he's back in the range in the Tower. He's on the floor, his back against the wall, and Natasha is sitting in front of him, legs folded underneath her. Clint is lying down next to them both, his head resting on his folded hands about a foot from Tony. He's whistling, adding music to Natasha's lullaby, but they both fade to a stop when they see his awareness return.

"Good to have you back," Clint says, glancing at Tony. He gives the genius a familiar, large smile. Natasha's gaze is keen but there is nothing sharp or judgmental, just clear and simply waiting. It's something he likes about the two spies; they're both always ready and accepting of whatever they're going to be told.

"I" Tony looks around. Rogers isn't in the room. Unless Tony had started hallucinating, he distinctly remembers the super-soldier having been present. "How'd you guys get here?"

"We got called down," Clint explains in a relaxed voice. He's staring up at the rafters, his eyes flicking around in the way they do when he's imagining different jumps he could make. "JARVIS said you were having a panic attack, and Nat and I have handling those down pat."

"So here we are," Natasha finishes.

They both fall silent, letting Tony think. "Was I..." he hesitates, knowing this is a weird question. "Was I alone?"

Natasha shakes her head. "Steve was here, looking pretty freaked. He said you guys were talking and then you started to panic, even more so when he touched you. We sent him out to deal with this." Tony can't help how he flinches at the soldier's name, too emotionally drained to control his reactions like he usually can.

The red-haired woman tilts her head at his reaction. "Wanna tell us what happened?" Clint asks. Tony stays silent. "K," Clint continues, nonplussed, "is it ok if we guess?"

Tony's first instinct is to send them both a charming smile and distract, but he's tired, and no way are they actually going hit the nail on the head. Then again, they're master spies. With a heavy sigh, Tony hangs his head, putting it between his knees. He flaps one of his hands in exhausted permission. They understand what he means.

"We'll start simple," Natasha says. Her voice is smooth, gentle but not to the level that would make Tony feel the need to snap and leave. "It was caused by something Steve said." Tony takes a deep breath and nods. "It was made worse because it was _Steve_ who said it." He nods again. "It has to do with your father." Tony's head jerks up, his eyes wild.

"Stop," he croaks, trying to keep the panic at bay. She does as he asked.

"If we're wrong," Clint begins, "stop me and say that we're way off the mark, but...we get it. Before he died, my dad beat me and my brother senseless. And thenI told you about the circus, right? Well my mentors, Buck and Jacque, liked me. More than they should've. And they decided that anytime I messed up, my punishment would be a lot more brutal and _invasive_ than it ever should've been. They started setting me up to fail as an excuse."

Tony's chest is tight and he looks at Clint with wide eyes, understanding what he means.

"I trained in a secret facility in Russia called Red Room," Natasha says. "If you weren't skilled enough to fight the men off, then they could do what they wanted." Her explanation is much shorter than Clint's, but just as startling and powerful.

Tony squeezes his eyes shut. He feels strong hands holding him down, smells the musk, hears the moans and grunts. The breath is on his neck, and something is being pushed inside, and

Suddenly, there are two hands holding his, squeezing tightly as they grasp him. Tony gasps and his eyes fly open. Natasha and Clint are right next to him, each of them with one of their hands linked with his, grounding him. He holds back just as tightly.

"What does it have to do with Steve?" Natasha asks softly.

"He would-" Tony gasps out every word, "-call out-" he forces air to go in and out, "-Steve's name." Tony blinks back tears. "It was never about me," he cries out. "He wanted to be with Captain America and I was just _there_ and he thought if he was drunk enough he could pretend I was his hero but it was never enough, and it never ended, not until he was _dead._ It would never have happened ifit wouldn't" he sobs out a broken cry. For the first time in his entire life he's talking about what happened to him, and it all comes tumbling out.

"I hate him," he screams. "I hate him so much. If he hadn't existed my father wouldn't-" He screams, a broken, painful sound. "He wouldn't've touched me. If Rogers hadn't been there, if Howard hadn't wanted more than my mother, then I'd behe'd be-"

Two pairs of arms go around him, holding just as tightly as they'd grasped his hands. The two master assassins hold him as he sobs, and for a moment Tony wants to laugh, because the situation is just so ridiculous if you really look at it, but he still lets them comfort him, because they want to and they care and they understand.

"You can't hate Steve for what Howard did," Natasha murmurs. Tony wants to protest, because _hell yes he can, it's the soldier's fault,_ but Natasha continues speaking. "Howard was the one who abused you, and he did it because he was wrong in the head. Yes, Howard was picturing Steve during it, but do you honestly think that he would've been a perfect father if he hadn't met Steve? Because I don't. I think he still would've done it, just without the mental image of a super-soldier."

Tony sobs harder, and feels even more ridiculous. "But-" he tries, but is unable to continue, nothing to follow it with.

"You've been holding onto that blame for a long time," Clint says. "It probably made everything a little easier to bare. I blamed Barney for a long time, because he didn't do anything to stop them. But the truth was, Barney wasn't a great brother, but he didn't know what they were doing. And Steve wasfor all intents and purposesdead before you were born; he had nothing to do with what your dad did. He'd be appalled and outraged."

Tony nods, and nods, and nods, until he can barely feel his head anymore. He knows, he does, but he didn't, and he can't get it straight in his head, but he _knows_ that they're right. He does. But he's been hating Steve Rogers since he was ten, the year he found out who the _Steve_ his dad kept saying was, and letting go of that deep-seeded of a feeling is going to take a long time.

After a very long while, after Tony has stopped shaking and sobbing, after all of their limbs start to ache from being in one position for so long, Natasha and Clint slowly pull back, giving them all a little bit of space.

"Come on," Clint says with a smile as he and Natasha pull Tony to his feet. "You need sleep, like, pronto."

"And tomorrow," Natasha continues smoothly, "You should talk to Steve."

Tony doesn't even have the energy to flinch, or wince, or panic. He just nods numbly and lets them pull him out of the gym, into the elevator, up to his floor, and into his bedroom. He's so exhausted he doesn't even come up with a quip about them tucking him into bed until they're long gone and he's sliding into unconsciousness.

* * *

Tony bites his thumbnail, anxiously staring at the elevator doors, waiting.

After waking up from a thirteen hour sleep, Tony had remained in bed for at least another two hours, staring at the ceiling, debating with himself. He came to a decision, and then one that was the complete opposite, and then right back to where he started. Finally, he told JARVIS to ask Rogers to come up to his floors to talk. He'd stopped himself from chickening out at least four times.

The elevator _dings_ and the doors slide open, revealing the captain. He looks hesitant, concerned, and Tony steels himself for the conversation they're about to have. It's not going to be easy for him, considering he's never spoken about what happened to him other than last night, and never thought he would ever say anything to Captain America, himself.

"Hi," Tony says. He rubs his hands together nervously and glances around, not quite looking at Rogers _(Start thinking of him as Steve. Start moving past the hate)_. "Um, sit down. We need to...we should talk. Yea." He nods to himself and inches forward, lowering himself to sit on his comfy couch.

RogersSteve does as asked and comes further into the room, sitting in an armchair across from Tony. There is a coffee table between them, and even though Tony knows Steve isn't going to hurt him or do anything against him, the barrier is a bit of a comfort.

"What's up?" Steve asks, concern written across his face. Tony realizes that he'd been silent for a while and Steve was filling the silence. The genius clears his throat.

"Ok so, um, Natasha and Clint told me I should talk to you. To explain why I..." he flaps a hand in the air, indicating the events in the gym yesterday. "Ya know. It wasn't really about you. Well," he amends, "It _was,_ like a lot, but not completely. It was really about something different but you're _you_ so you kinda made it worse and-" Tony forces himself to a stop, knowing he's babbling.

Steve's eyes are wide, blinking at him, and Tony takes a deep breath. "Right, sorry. Ok, so. So you knew mymy dad during the war. And you guys...you guys were friends. Good friends. Right?"

Tony glances at the soldier, who nods tentatively. "Yea, we spent a lot of time together, with Bucky and the other commandos. He was a good man."

The genius feels a shudder rack his body and his heart-rate speeds up a little. He forges on. "Well, after you _'died',"_ Tony emphasizes this with air quotes, "my dad searched endlessly for you. He was...obsessed. He met my mom and I was conceived, and he really amped up how much he drank after he kept failing to find you. He was..." Tony feels the bite of his nails in his palms and forces his hands to relax. "He was obsessed. He wanted you. In...more ways than one."

Tony doesn't look at Steve, unable to face whatever expression the soldier is wearing, but he can feel Steve's undivided attention. "I was seven the first time it happened. It was the middle of the night and he came into my room, drunk off his fucking ass, and sat down on my bed. I didn't...I didn't understand. He'd never been good to me, but this was different. He held me down and..." Tony puts a hand to his mouth, biting the skin to ground himself, and holds back the sobs that want to explode out.

"Every time it happened, for  _years,_ he called out a name. He was pretending I was someone else. I was ten when I learned who the person was, who my father had abused me in want of.” He raises his eyes to meet Steve’s, who's looking back in horror. “You. My dad had wanted a lot more than _friendship_ from you. He found a way to believe he was getting it. Through me."

He lowers his eyes again. "And I hated you from then on. You, this dead hero that everyone loved, that my _father_ loved, that I  _had_ loved; you were, to me, responsible for all the horrible things that happened to me. I hated you, the way a child hates the divorce lawyer when their parents split up; doesn't really have anything to do with the third party. And I never let go of that hate.

"Then you showed up," Tony lets out a small, self-deprecating, incredulous laugh. "And I still hated you. My nightmares got worse having you here, my flashbacks more frequent. You were now a physical reminder of all the pain I've gone through."

"Oh my god," Steve says, pain and horror thick in his voice. "Tony, I-"

"Shut up," Tony says, looking back up to Steve, his voice surprisingly even. "Don't. Let me finish." The captain nods. "Good. Ok. So, my panic attack was set off because you mentioned getting along with my dad, and saying that we were alike, and I got sucked into a bunch of flashbacks. But Natasha and Clint really helped me. And they made me realize that I can't really keep hating you. Which, isn't just gonna  _happen,_ because come on I've hated you for thirty years. But I'm gonna try. And I'm gonna go through a _fuckton_ of therapy to help me. So. I'm done."

The room falls silent. Tony stares at his twisting fingers, his shoulders hunched. He hopes Steve doesn't apologize, because then he'll feel the need to comfort him and say _'_ _it wasn't your fault',_ which he hasn't reached the point of believing yet, and doesn't want to have to be in that position.

Instead "If Howard were still alive today," Steve says, his voice thick with emotion but resolute and honest, "I swear to you, I would kill him."

Tony's head jerks up and he stares at Steve. Captain America doesn't just kill people; he arrests them. But Tony sees that Steve is telling the truth. If his father walked in right in this moment, Steve wouldn't hesitate.

That piece of information hits Tony like a blow to the gut. "Well," he replies hoarsely, eyes beginning to fill with tears. "That's something, I suppose."

They sit in silence for a while, both of their minds a whirlwind of emotions and thoughts, but they're pulled back to the real world when JARVIS announces that Natasha, Clint, and Bruce were wondering if the two of them would like to join them for a movie marathon. JARVIS adds that Natasha says Steve doesn't know the Vader reveal.

Tony's eyes light up and he laughs a little at himself. "Come on, Capsicle," the genius says, pushing himself to his feet. "Time for you to see some of the greatest movies ever made."

Steve looks at him, frowning in confusion. "Baby steps, Steve," Tony sighs. He's making a fucking effort, and the captain is going to meet him there.

After a moment, Steve stands up, shaking his head with a small, sad smile. "Got it. SoVader?"

Tony heads to the elevator. "One of the all-time best movie moments. Of all time. You're gonna _love_ it."

When they're both in the elevator and heading down, Tony can't help the shudder that racks his body at how close they are. Without saying anything or calling attention to it, Steve shifts away, giving them both more space.

Tony relaxes, his body unwinding. _That's something, I suppose._


End file.
